


(in)convenience store encounters

by taiyakeo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: HQ Rarepair Bang 2020, M/M, after graduation au hehe, and also.. whatever the hell terushima chucked in there, bad terrible horrible cooking, he doesn't actually throw up he just.. thinks about it, hooray for instant ramen, lich rally could NOT have done this fic without safari, safari gave me the title!!!! thank you safari, thank you safari for tolerating me, tw: brief thoughts of death, tw: mentions of vomit, using convenience store ingredients, writing shirabu so salty gave me hypertension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23510203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taiyakeo/pseuds/taiyakeo
Summary: People find love in the strangest of places. Sometimes it's in the dog park, meeting the eyes of a good-looking stranger after your dog leashes tangle. Sometimes it's on a flight, or in the back of a bus. For Shirabu, it's making terrible instant ramen in his kitchen with Terushima, a person whom he never expected to meet again and, apparently, has even worse cooking skills and food combination choices than he does.
Relationships: Shirabu Kenjirou & Terushima Yuuji
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: HQ Rarepair Bang 2020





	(in)convenience store encounters

**Author's Note:**

> [here](https://twitter.com/syllafari/status/1247140628863029248) is safari's art for this work! you can find safari on twitter [here!](https://twitter.com/syllafari)
> 
> BLESS safari for this .. you have no idea how hard she worked on this piece like SERIOUSLY.. respect.... it's so gorgeous arghhh!! i enjoyed doing this so much and im super happy i got to work on this with her!

It was the peak of summer. Humid wind blew from behind Shirabu, making his shirt stick to his back uncomfortably. The cicadas screeched in the trees, mimicking his own desire to throw his head back and shriek. He didn't have a particular reason to, but there was a feral, almost animalistic, want in him to scream all the time. Why could bugs do it and not him? Double standards for screaming in public needed to be re-considered, in his opinion. He'd worked for--How many hours? Too many. Every day felt like he was going to die. He wanted to quit his job and sit naked in the woods to decompose into the dirt like some worm in leaf litter. Now that was the life. The dream. 

He walked into the convenience store, trying not to feel ashamed about the number of ready meals he knew he was going to buy. Look, he couldn't cook, alright? He'd learn sometime, he told himself (totally lying) as he hovered around the frozen foods section. He'd once gone in and bought about thirty omurice packets at a time during a sale, causing the cashier to give him what they probably thought was a discreet look--disgust, horror and annoyance mixed in all at once. Awe, maybe. Yeah, that was it. Awe. 

It was better than nothing, right? At least he was feeding himself. At least he was eating something. Omurice was better than trash. Though maybe not this month. If he ate any more omurice he was going to throw up or die or both at the same time, and it would not be pretty for the person recovering his body. Seriously, could anything ever be more disgusting? Bad enough to find a body, but if it was covered in vomit… _Eurgh._

He was absentmindedly nudging at the instant ramen (he never seemed to have enough, despite owning enough instant ramen in his storage room to last him through the apocalypse, if it ever happened--though his mind was permanently on the verge of shutting down and that was crisis enough). He'd had enough of omurice, and it was time for something new. Variety was necessary for a healthy diet, wasn't it? 

_How pitiful,_ he thought to himself. _Instant ramen. Healthy._ He'd really just put them in the same train of thought. He was going to die before thirty.

"Oh, hey," a voice from right beside him said. "I never thought I'd see you here." 

He pretended not to hear, turning a ramen cup round in his hands and pretending to squint at the label. If it wasn't meant for him, it'd be rude and awkward for him to assume it was and greet the person, and then he'd have that terrible experience on his hands for the rest of his life. It was the type of thing he would wake up at two in the morning and think of. There was nothing worse than those kinds of experiences. Though--the voice was slightly familiar. He glanced round the least suspiciously as he could and found himself face-to-face with Terushima Yuuji.

It took him a moment or so to fully process that Terushima was staring. 

"Hello," he said, carefully. "Terushima…" He tacked on a reluctant " _-san_ " at the end. He was shocked, kind of. He hadn't expected to see anybody from his high school days for a while. He was saying that like he was seventy years old. How old was he? Whatever. His health was deteriorating so fast he may as well have been ninety. Closer to death, he thought. Good for me. 

"For a moment there I thought you'd forgotten me completely! Man, that would've been awkward, wouldn't it? But it's kind of hard to forget me, huh?" He made a strange face and wriggled his eyebrows. Shirabu almost cringed but reeled himself back in, because he was finally a somewhat respectable member of society.

_Yes,_ he thought. _Tongue-piercing-san._

"I suppose so," he said and did not elaborate. 

"What've you got there?" Terushima leaned forward and plucked the ramen container from his hands. "Oh--spicy ramen? You like spicy food?"

"It's cheap." 

Terushima made a noncommittal noise (loudly; he spoke at such a high volume that people were turning to stare and Shirabu wished bitterly that he'd pretended not to recognise him at all to save himself the embarrassment) and chucked the ramen into his own basket, swinging it like he meant to fling it across the store. 

_Okay. Food thief._

"Do you live around here?" Terushima turned and started striding through the aisles so quickly that Shirabu had to jog lightly to catch up, which he resented--he couldn't come up with a reason why he was following him. He ought to have been speedwalking in the other direction, but something told him he couldn't do that. Couldn't or shouldn't? He wasn't able to tell. God, he sounded like his teacher in his head.

"Why would I tell you where I live?" 

"So you do," he laughed.

Shit. Damn it. Had he been too obvious? He wanted to smack his head against the wall. He should just have said no, even if it would have been a lie. 

"Okay, I do. What do you want to know that for?"

“Oh, you know, just wanted to catch up.” He indicated the stolen ramen. “I mean, we could cook together." 

Shirabu could think of at least thirty reasons why they should absolutely not do that. He was prepared to start a PowerPoint presentation (He'd once actually done it, making Tendou-san endure the longest set of slides he'd ever prepared on how he could improve in his techique after he'd mocked Shirabu on his own; somebody had to put him in his place, right?) But before he could even protest, Terushima had wheedled his address out of him. He didn't know how. It just happened. He couldn't remember the exact words Terushima'd used. He couldn't even remember being asked; he just gave his address. It was almost as though he'd done it of his own volition, which was absolutely ridiculous. He would never have done something like that. 

Then they were there. 

How it happened he still really didn't know. 

Terushima had ransacked his sad little refrigerator for the little sad ingredients he had inside (two eggs, some marshmallows and junk food he had forgotten was in there, more instant ramen, an ungodly amount of omurice, half-filled bottles of sauce and other similarly depressing 'food') and laid everything out on his counter. He hummed, leaning against the counter. The packets crinkled as he turned them around, and Shirabu tried his best to look like he wasn't wincing. 

"Please," he said, about to ask Terushima not to judge his shitty food selection, but realised very quickly that there was no saving face now. If he asked him that it would just be more pitiful. He realised then that he'd already gotten the plea out and now was obligated to ask for something. "Could you pass me the… uh… You know. The thing." 

"The what? What thing? Huh?"

He made a vague action with his hands, trying to remember something--anything--that he could have asked Terushima for. Something not within his reach. 

"The oven," he said, stupidly. 

If his brain could have made a noise, it would have been the Windows shutdown sound. What could he even say after that? _Oh, sorry, I accidentally asked for the oven instead of an actual ingredient people use in cooking, ahaha, silly me, oopsie! Haha, you know, just like normal people do!_

Terushima unplugged the oven from the wall and handed it to Shirabu. "Are you going to cook it?" 

Genu--

_The question was genuine._

God, both of them were stupid. He was glad Terushima was stupid, but disappointed in himself for being equally as stupid. Stupid for letting him in his house, stupid for letting him ransack his kitchen, stupid for asking for the oven. What was he doing anymore? 

"I'm not going to cook it. I, uh…" 

"You were going to move it?" 

"Yes," said Shirabu. 

There was no space on the counter. 

"Put it in the fridge," Terushima suggested. 

"Ah, yes. The oven. In the fridge. Instead of putting everything else back." 

"Oh, you're right." Terushima laughed, and Shirabu admired his ability to sound like he hadn't just said the most idiotic thing on earth. It was almost--

He admired Terushima. He--

He had never wanted to put his head in his hands more. 

"Let's get on with it," Shirabu said, sweeping the ingredients scattered on the counter to the side. The sooner this was over, the better. "Could you turn on the gas?" 

Terushima and boiling water didn't sound like a good idea, so he forced Terushima to stand a meter away from him, threatening him with a spatula when he came too close. 

"I don't trust you," was his completely honest reasoning. He was not weak to puppy faces, contrary to popular belief. Popular as in Tendou-san liked to gently imply it, and he was wrong. 

A problem arose, however, just as the instant noodles were almost done. He needed to pee. He really needed to pee. 

"Terushima," he said, slowly. "Can I get you to promise me one thing?" 

"Yeah?" He looked like the kind of person who would say 'I'm your dependable senior, so trust in me to do whatever you need!' in that one moment. He looked like Shirabu was going to give him a family heirloom. Not that they had any, other than his great-grandpa's dentures and the one strange creature-shaped vase that he had in the corner of a dark cupboard somewhere because he didn't want to have to look at it. Now he was thinking about its eyes… The…

No. Shut up, brain. 

"Don't be stupid," he said quickly before running off. 

His decision to trust Terushima for a few minutes was completely wrong. What had he done? 

There were gummy bears in the ramen, among other things. He couldn't even really tell what was in the noodles. Was it ramen anymore? That was definitely half an orange, and some chocolate candy… Wait. There was no knife in the sink. 

"How did you get that orange open?" He asked, nervously.

Terushima imitated a squeezing action with his hands, and then mimed throwing it at the counter.

Ah. So _that_ was the orange stain. 

...Wasn't he beginning to take it in his stride now? Was that a good or bad thing?

"This is…" He tried not to laugh. It was-- It was bad. There was no other word for it. A raccoon ate better than them. 

It burst out of him and he laughed anyway. He couldn't even say he didn't want to--Just… Fruit gummy? In ramen? He'd regret it later when it was less amusing.

"You're a shithead," he couldn't help saying, and Terushima didn't even look offended. 

"I thought it would be fun." He looked slightly pleased, and Shirabu thought it strange that he hadn't already throttled him. "You have to have variety. Those snacks can't sit in your fridge forever. Look at the expiry dates… You know, food wastage." He shrugged. "You have to use them while you can." 

"You say it like I'm going to die."

"If you don't get enough nutrition, you will." Terushima tapped the side of his temple as though he were relaying some wise, holy information. 

"And pocky in ramen is going to give me that nutrition? What a miracle. You know, that… I… It makes me want to throw up, but it's kind of--"

Fun. He was having fun. He let himself smile, because if he was going to go absolutely feral at any point in his life now was the time.

"You have white hair," Terushima said suddenly, which made his smile immediately drop.

"Wow. Okay. Thanks for pointing that out, it's my favourite part of my whole look." 

"I know! It's so cool, right? It's like… You know, it's like your memories getting wrapped in one hair… Chromatin threads, you know?" 

Chrom… C… Okay.

He felt slightly guilty for having been sarcastic, but then again Terushima hadn't even noticed, so there wasn't any point in being guilty anyway. 

"I'm stressed and that's why I have white hair." He transferred the noodles to two plates before they cooled down. "Working is harder than I thought." 

"That's because you're so serious about it," Terushima said, in a 'duh, obviously' kind of voice. "You just have to chill, you know? Like, uhh…" He gestured uselessly. "You have to find some way to make it bearable. Yeah?" 

"Bearable. Work. Sounds doable." He kept his voice as deadpan as possible. 

Terushima shrugged. "I don't know. If you're not happy then find other work. You're always like… So severe about everything. So rigid. Just…" He made a strange shimmying motion with his shoulders as though he had become a sort of worm. It was disturbing to see and Shirabu almost burst out laughing again. "Shake it out. You can't live like that forever."

"Okay, Mister Life Advice Column." Shirabu shrugged and made a face at his plate, pretending he wasn't actually taking Terushima's advice seriously. Pretending his heart wasn't hammering. "Oh. This is considerably less funny. Uh… Is that a… Did you put wasabi in this?" 

Terushima had put a whole mouthful of the monstrosity he had created into his mouth and began to speak with his mouth entire filled, spraying dubious things all over Shirabu's face. He wanted to scream.

"Please," he said instead, words catching in his throat. "Please, if you're going to do anything, let it not be that. Chew before you talk. I'm suffering. I'll kick you out if you don't."

Terushima made a face like a chastised child and slumped on the table, pointedly chewing very loudly just so Shirabu knew he was doing it. "Okay. I swallowed. Happy?" 

"Very. Never do that again." 

"I put mustard in there."

"Mmm. No longer happy." 

"And then I put chips in, and some sweet snacks, I think there's a cream puff? And then there's that orange for vitamins, and some bok choy for vegetables, and some onion--"

"Raw. Raw onion." 

"Yeah, raw onion."

"Unpeeled. You didn't even… Okay, I'm not eating this." Shirabu lifted the onion gingerly using his chopsticks (a difficult task, considering how slippery it was) and flicked it onto Terushima's plate. 

Terushima reached into his plate and took a bite of it like an apple. "Ow! Why did you dare me to do that, Shirabu? You're so mean and rude to do that." 

Shirabu's jaw fell open. "You put that onion in there. I didn't even tell you to do that. You brought this entirely on yourself." 

"You said you weren't going to eat it, and who else is going to? There's only me, right?" 

"Yeah, well, maybe you should've thought of that before you put it in."

"It's for the vitamins," Terushima said dramatically, draping his arm over his eyes and faking a swoon. "You just don't get it. You don't understand that I'm doing this for your own good." 

"The onion hurt you, not me. Blame it." 

"You bought that onion. I blame you for purchasing it. You knew that it would come to this one day… You bought it with me in mind, knowing that one day you would use it on me and curse me to…" He gasped. "You've cursed me!" 

"Yes," Shirabu said. "I've cursed you. Now you'll never be able to mess with my food again."

Terushima made a loud noise of complaint, slumping over the table as if somebody had shot his dog. "You're going to jail. You've committed a crime." 

"Under what law?" 

"I'm the President." 

"No, but what law?" 

"I said I'm the President and it's my law." 

"Wow, talk about mistreating your people. I'd like to file a complaint. You're getting fired." 

Talking was nice. It made him forget the terrible taste of whatever the hell was in his mouth at that moment. It was almost… Sweet, in a strange way. Not sweet as in the flavour, but he was giddy. It was liberating just to talk complete nonsense and eat complete nonsense. He could see the draw in… What was it Tendou had called it? Loosening up. Having fun. It was exciting, in a new, weird way. 

Terushima made a face. "At least my country's cuisine is…" He mimed a chef's kiss and shrugged. "It makes up for every single one of my failings…. That is to say none. I have zero failings and you are objectively incorrect in your criticism of me." 

"Zero failings. I can name one going off of that. Narcissist." 

"Narcissist… Narcissa… I really am as lovely as a flower, yes?" He cracked a walnut between his teeth, having plucked it from the depths of the ramen. He was already half-finished by then, and Shirabu was terrified of him. 

Shirabu made a retching noise in response, gingerly spooning more ramen into his mouth. "This is a waste of my hard work." 

"You saying that undermines my hard work. I worked so hard on this. You come into my house--"

"This is my house." 

"You come into my… territory…" He paused, considering the word on the tip of his tongue. "You come into my territory and you hurt me like this? After all I've done for you?" 

Shirabu simply shook his head. It made zero sense. 

"Well, Mister President, I really can't take any more of this disgusting food. Since it's your country's fine cuisine, I trust you can finish it?" He pushed his plate towards Terushima. 

Terushima made a pleading face. He felt his heart drop. 

"Don't. You can't do this to me."

"It's not my money you're wasting… You're just paying for my meal." 

"You love watching me suffer," Shirabu grumbled, eating a ramen broth-soaked candy. "This tastes like straight up shit." 

Gross. Gross, gross, gross. Gross was the only word that could have expressed his feelings for the food he was eating. Was it even food? But, still, he thought vaguely that he wouldn't mind doing it again, if only for the… Joy? Could he have called it joy?

He glanced at Terushima's gleeful, bastardous face.

Joy. That was it, he decided. Freedom.

He had softened, somehow, and he didn't really care.


End file.
